Chained
by brutalfreeze
Summary: Two very different worlds collide when a Dalish woman with strange talents is put in charge of a Saarebas. She is disgusted with those not of the People and he only knows one way of life. An unlikely friendship blooms into more, but will they last?


I motioned Merthen to my side, one finger pressed against my lips in a silent plea for his compliance in quiet. He nodded once and lightened his footfalls against the spray of rock beneath our feet. I breathed an internal sigh of relief as he settled at my side.

His heavy, intense stare was on me. Awaiting my next move as always.

This was the time, then.

I sucked in a sharp breath, sent a small prayer to Mythal for protection and Andruil for sharpening my wits. Each minute detail intensified. The new Firstbloom smells of dirt and flowers and purity that came with ridding the earth of the Withering. The sound of the gently blowing wind east-by-southeast. Mother birds calling to chicks, bees buzzing amongst new blooms, frogs chirping amongst the simmering marshes.

My heartbeat quickened. Blood rushed, raging and hot. I could hear both whooshing through my ears, pounding away at my frantic thoughts.

The rumors were unfounded, impossible. At least that is what I told myself before I heard Merthen's guttural voice.

"There it is," Merthen whispered, his lilting words coated with disgust and muted awe.

I had to force myself to look. When I did, I couldn't help but gape. The breath rushed out of my lungs in what sounded more a sigh than a gasp. There were several things wrong with this scene.

First, the unmistakable shape of the kossith hid beneath a mass armor of gold, his knees bowing beneath the weight of it. Even his face was covered in an awkwardly shaped helmet, save the lower half of his jaw. The few people of Qun our clan had come across generally left little to imagination in their choices of clothing. Secondly, the strangely dressed kossith emanated such magical power that I was nearly knocked from the earth's good face. It was as if the creature carried with it a force of a god. Third: the various ways that the kossith was bound. By chains strapped between his ankles, his wrists, all connected around his waist. And, I noted in horror, stitches through its lips. Blinded, mute, possibly deaf, and chained…. And, lastly, the Keeper was in the midst of brandishing a rod, made of the same shade of the kossith's armor, before the creature's face while speaking too low for my ears.

"I don't believe it," I uttered while clutching my chest in an attempt to keep my heart trapped there.

Another gasp ripped through me as the creature groaned in what sounded like pain or possibly anger; a severe booming grated through the limits of its stitches. The Keeper was attempting to cage the creature in a makeshift ironwood entrapment and obviously the rod was some sort of controlling device as each jerk of the dowel drew the kossith forward.

But flaring magic sizzled, sending a slap of electric energy right through me. The air tasted chalky, burnt with the creature's fury. The magic was not contained or controlled by any save the user of that power. And that creature was beyond anger, in a state of rage. Directed at the Keeper.

The bright burst of color from the creature as its magic was unleashed and I did not find myself shocked.

I was already running at the Keeper, at the creature, at the magic that was about to slaughter my clan's leader. Guided by an instinct beyond my own consciousness.

I was sprinting with Mythal's blessing spurring my steps into a blurred state. My hand was outstretched. Merthen was yelling something unintelligible. Keeper Indrathen's eyes had gone wide as the magic fought its way against the—what was it fighting against? _Aah_, there it was. The chains were enchanted to hold magic at bay.

But so strong was the power and fury of the kossith, the enchantment was breaking.

I let loose the taut bow within my chest, an arrow of my own energy blasting out and out to catch the creature's powerful magic head on in an unseen collision. There was a brief feeling of relief from letting that creature of magic within me free but corked then by the fierce protectiveness of Keeper Indrathen.

Then I was there by his side and he was saying my name and I was staring at the creature's sightless mask and gritting my teeth against the onslaught of its magic. Formidable as it was, my own talents were stronger. I could feel the heat of the magic like a balmy wind against the shield of my own power before my magic flexed and became a constrictor, cutting off the source of the creature's attack as a snake would wrap around a neck to keep a creature from using teeth.

"You—will not—defeat me—Qunari filth," I ground out between each pant of breath, my brows knotted in unyielding concentration.

The creature in a last attempt to strike out, raised its arms, the metal of the shackles rustling against the armor, and braced its legs forward as if it were physically able to will the magic onward. And the magic did burst forth for just a moment before I gave one last _squeeze _with the power and felt it snap the source in twain.

Standing over the creature now fallen on its back, I yanked the helm from its face and stared down into its—_his_unrelenting angry eyes set in a dusky face that had all the color of a week old corpse. His brow was hairless, his horns broken and flecked with what may have been blackened blood. But the most surprising thing of it all was the same bright violet color of his eyes I knew mirrored my own and I leapt back from their conviction, their fury, and felt an uncomfortable feeling I had not felt in all my years among my people: _doubt_.

"You did a brave thing, dear child," the Keeper rasped in his ancient voice. His words were kind but his eyes were all for the creature, a bit warily. If he had noticed my sudden jump away from the creature as if it had suddenly become poisonous, he made no mention of it, gave no sign of having seen it.

Now the Keeper's stance was strong as he inclined the rod once more to the creature and had it crawl the last few feet into its new cage. Once the creature had been deposited into the cage, several people came forward from the trees and hulled the cage with the creature in it, using an intricate rope system, to the center of the camp.

I inclined my head to the Keeper as he looked on in approval, instructing the laborers and tried not to let the sting of new, stirring emotions taint my own voice as I pointed out with disdain, "It lives still. I have never had to use the—gift this way, Keeper. I do not know the effects it may have had."

"This thing is a _gift _from the Creators, surely imbibed by the great Mythal Herself. Do not doubt, my child, have faith the Creators are leading us on the right path. You have Mythal's favor. Lest you not forget it." The Keeper's gnarled fingers patted the back of my hand. "And that gift should not go to waste. Taren'alen has told me you wish to become a hunter and I have declined this request."

My head drooped and I nodded my acquiescence to his superior knowledge though I felt the stabbing twist of rejection deep within my heart.

"Does singing the songs of the People no longer fill your heart with joy?"

I saw beyond the Keeper then into the depths of my own secret heart, where I had let no others touch. The place where I kept my longing and dreams buried. Like treasure surfacing from the ground, this dream I had held since I was a child was to be the protector of the People. Too many times were we defeated by those seeking to oppress our 'heathen' ways or vagrants stealing our land. Land that was ancient and cherished and littered with our most precious relics.

During the Blight I had been too helpless and young to stop the darkspawn from killing my mother and father and older brother, all hunters for the People. All protectors. I would carry the line on and honor my family's spirits by carrying on the tradition of hunting.

And now, here was that dream cast to the side as if it were so much fodder.

"No, Keeper, singing is no longer sufficient. I wish to honor my family's namesake and protect the People, our tribe from the forces of the world seeking to eliminate our faces from the earth."

"This is the very reason you have chosen the markings of Mythal, is it not?" Keeper Indrathen is scouring my face, his knowing eyes tracing over the intricate lines on the side of my face.

My response is a nod.

"And yet, you chose not to complete the markings." His eyes move over the places on my face where the remainder of my tattoos _should _be. "Why?"

How could I explain a feeling?

When the ritual had begun just a little over a month ago at the mark of my coming into adulthood it was as if Mythal Herself sat beside me. Took my hand in Her own and seared the ink into my flesh. Yet I knew just where to place the _keraset inatenna _against my flesh and stroke. At the time, the rightness in each movement burned like the strongest conviction and I could see my future as a hunter splay out in front of me.

And then it was done, just… half. Incomplete. But it had _felt_ finished.

The markings were strange, unlike any other I had seen for Her namesake. Most Mythal markings overtook each side of the face, graced the brow, and down to the chin.

"I see you do not have an answer. But I can feel the grace of the Creators strong within you. Never in all the memory of our People have we seen one that can quell magic without being able to create. It seems as though there are many impossible things made possible in you, Elyria. As strong as you are, it is you I wish to deem the task of protector to our People." He only allowed a moment of rampaging bliss to send my heart sailing into the skies before he continued onward. His leathery hand inclined to the body sprawled out in the cage, the creature with the eyes burning into my memory. "Only you have the capabilities of keeping that creature mollified. You are his charge now until we reach the nearest Qunari compound and release him back to his people."

The elation that had kept me soaring now crash-landed my heart and stomped out its fires. Dread and disappointment dispersed in its place and, sullenly, I replied, "Yes, Keeper."


End file.
